


we keep pretending the sun will not rise

by pokeasleepingsmaug



Category: Letterkenny (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Cheating, Dumb Hockey Boys, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Inspired by Music, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Pining, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M, breaking up, sort of a katy character study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 18:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19408993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pokeasleepingsmaug/pseuds/pokeasleepingsmaug
Summary: Katy tries not to smile over her coffee cup at the two boys across the small plastic table, their arms pressed together, Reilly’s damp hair dripping onto his shoulders and Jonesy’s eyes wide and bright.





	we keep pretending the sun will not rise

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Ocean Avenue by Yellowcard, fic inspired by that same song.

Ocean Avenue

Katy tries not to smile over her coffee cup at the two boys across the small plastic table, their arms pressed together, Reilly’s damp hair dripping onto his shoulders and Jonesy’s eyes wide and bright. She’s feeling silly and free, loosened by the Bailey’s the boys poured into her cup when Bonnie, the barista, wasn’t looking. The last few months have been a whirlwind wooing that leaves her uncertain of which one wants her, and she constantly feels like she could fly when she’s with them and they're all sixteen and not afraid of falling yet. They call her "Katy Kat" and tell her she’s a sniper in the corridors between classes and share their dollar store sour candies and when she watches them walk away, she wonders what it might be like to taste their lips instead. She hasn’t been brave enough yet to find out.

Tim Horton’s has slowly morphed into the place they go when they don’t want their families to hear them talking all night, and sometimes Reilly or Jonesy will sneak in vodka in a water bottle and they’ll pass it around and Bonnie pretends not to notice. Katy smiles over at her often, curious, but busy with the boys. 

She sets her cup down and finally smiles, folding her hands on the table. They both lean forward and wrap her hands in theirs, and she's warm all over as they level twin smiles at her. Katy craves a taste of something simple, and she knows most people think Reilly and Jonesy are fuckin' idiots but her mom used to talk about Wayne's emotional intelligence, and she thinks she would say the same about Reilly and Jonesy. How pure, for your fortunes to fall or fly with numbers on a scoreboard. She's ready for something simple, and none of them are afraid of falling when they can talk all night and never run out of things to say. 

Cherry Street 

It’s funny, Katy thinks, how once she thought Reilly and Jonesy were simple because their lives revolved around hockey. She knows now it doesn’t mean they aren’t simple, they just pick their thing and go all-in; she knows that because they’re all-in on her. They tell her she’s a sniper every chance they get, burn her toast when they try to make her breakfast after a late night, skip their pre-game nappies to spend afternoons in her bed instead. 

It's the summer after they graduate from high school and Tim Horton's burned down around Christmas, so now when they want to be alone they pick their way into the back bush at the farm and pass around joints instead of stolen liquor. They lay all tangled up on a wrinkled fleece blanket Jonesy pulls from the back of the Jeep and it’s hard to tell where one of them ends and the others begin. 

It starts off with stargazing and ends with hot breath on her neck and warm, willing bodies pushing against hers, hard and soft and giving and taking all at once. Katy’s in the middle, most times, Jonesy pressed against one side and Reilly on the other. It’s so dark out here in the middle of nowhere, only silent stars and the silver moon for light. Jonesy sucks searing kisses into skin, finishing them off with a bite so he can nuzzle the bruises later. He’s indiscriminate about where his mouth lands--Katy’s collarbone or Reilly’s ribs, he loves each part of them both all the same. And Reilly skates his surprisingly slow hands over her body, soothing and teasing. She knows when his hands find Jonesy, too, because his kisses get sloppier against her, his breathing more ragged, and his mouth leaves her to return Reilly’s favor. 

Wheel, snipe, _celly_ , boys.

Cherry Street

It’s a ritual they share when the boys have overnight away games. They send her just enough pieces that she can puzzle together what they’re up to--their lips pressed together, Jonesy’s fingers fisted in Reilly’s flow, Reilly’s kiss-swollen lips wrapped around Jonesy’s cock. Videos too, sometimes, of Reilly swearing as Jonesy sucks him off, or Jonesy’s wordless gasps as he cums all over Reilly’s hand.

Katy’s traipsing through the back bush with Wayne, looking for Stormy after she escaped from her pen, on the day they slip up. That’s Reilly’s dick on her phone screen, but those sure as hell aren’t Jonesy’s lips. She gets a flood of other messages, but she doesn’t bother to open them. It turns out Katy was never afraid of falling because she never knew what it felt like until now. 

Dirty _fuckin’_ dangles, boys, but she never thought they would dangle _her_ dirty.

Ocean Avenue

It’s so hard to keep frowning at them over her beer bottle when all she can think about is when Modean’s used to be Tim Horton’s and she would smile at them over her coffee cup. Jonesy’s eyes are wet and he looks so fucking crushed Katy wants to wrap her arms around him, and usually when Reilly frowns like that, Katy kisses him until he smiles again. 

And she could, it would be so easy. So much easier than pretending this is what she wants, but if she ever wants to get back together with them, they need to know this is a line they can’t cross. Because the thing is, Katy would have been open to opening things up, if they’d only asked her. 

And that’s the difference, she reminds herself, because when this was Tim Horton’s, there wasn’t a single secret the three of them kept from another. Katy tosses and turns that night in a bed that’s too wide and cold, and she wakes panting and sweating from dreams of sloppy kisses and soft hands, of nights spent tangled together under the stars in the back bush. 

Stewart’s an easy escape, but she never brings him to her bed. She’s afraid he’ll chase the dreams away.


End file.
